


twenty four hours

by avioletqueen



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 12:32:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avioletqueen/pseuds/avioletqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which a ticking clock is the soundtrack to green oak's life. written thanks to the 24hourstheme community on dreamwidth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	twenty four hours

**Author's Note:**

> **23:00 - 11 PM**   
> _“Coping with drastic change in a positive manner.”_

The ticking of a clock and the scritching of pen on paper is loud to his ears. Green spares a glance to the digital clock in his office and sighs a little at the red number blinking at him. It’s only eleven in the night, and there are still miles to go before he can even begin to think of sleeping. He’d always wondered what the Gym Leaders did besides facing challengers, but he’d never imagined that so much paperwork was involved.

A buzzer sounds and he huffs, getting to his feet to open his door and head to the Gym. Bonita is loitering in front of the entrance to the gym and immediately perks up as he sees his Leader approaching. “Green- sorry to call you down so late, but there’s a kid here.”

“Why didn’t you tell him to leave?” Green asks, coming to a stop before the door. “You know it’s after hours.”

“He doesn’t want to battle you. I mean - I don’t think he does. He hasn’t said much since he walked in. Just that he wants to talk to you. And- uh-” Bonita falters a little, then continues, embarrassment creeping into his tone, “I couldn’t exactly hold him back. His Pikachu is something else, Green.”

At mention of the Pikachu, Green physically stutters, then pushes past Bonita to open the door, leaving a very confused Gym Trainer in his wake. 

“What are you doing here?” Green demands, staring at the familiar boy on his dais. 

“I came down,” he says simply, tugging the brim of his hat a little higher on his forehead. “Thought you wanted that.”

The gym is enveloped in a tense quietness, red eyes meeting green. 

And with a deep breath, Green is the first to break the silence. Although his mind is buzzing at a hundred miles an hour - why did Red come down? Is he sleep-deprived? Has he been eating well? Have I turned into a housewife? - his gesture towards the door is stable enough. “Come inside. Some of us aren’t as fond of the night chill as you.”

\---

The microwave beeps, and Green retrieves the bowl of hot soup, setting it in front of Red before returning to the kitchen to scrounge around in a cluttered drawer for a spoon. Eevee, naturally, is off reconnecting with Pikachu, leaving Red and Green alone in the kitchen without much to say to each other. The clock on the wall ticks, and Green leans back against the wall, searching for something, anything to fill the quiet.

“... does anyone else know you’re back?”

“... Viridian City’s Nurse Joy. That’s all.”

“Your mom doesn’t know?”

There’s a miniscule shift in Red’s expression, and though it’s unfamiliar to Green, he realizes he’s crossed an unspoken line. Red doesn’t respond right away, sipping at the soup instead. After a few more spoonfuls, he offers, “this is disgusting. Is this all you eat?”

“What’s wrong with it? -you came off a damned mountain and you’re insulting my food?”

“This is worse than anything I ate up there.” Maybe it’s true. But maybe it’s an excuse for Red to put his spoon down and curl his fingers together nervously in his lap, almost as if he doesn’t realize that Green can see the gesture. 

The Gym Leader sighs, crossing his arms over his chest before looking away. “I just thought you’d be hungry. But if you aren’t… the bedroom is down the hallway. I’ll take the couch.” Even if the bed is easily big enough for two. Look at him being the bigger person. 

It garners the response he was vaguely hoping for. Something about Red seems more relaxed than before. Green plucks at the ends of his sleeves, then shrugs. “So. Just. Dump the bowl in the sink when you’re done. Trash is under the sink. Extra toothbrushes are under the sink in the bathroom. Which is, uh, at the end of the hallway.” The words come to his mind slowly - it had been a long while since he had introduced the apartment to Leaf, and there’d been no one else important to show it to after that. 

He vaguely registers Red’s thanks as he straightens, heads for the couch, tosses the magazines littering the cushions onto the coffee table. Eventually, he hears footsteps behind him as Red gets up from the table, but he doesn’t look. Being civil, being accepting, being hospitable is nearly an insurmountable effort. But turning Red away would be even more impossible. 

He’s used to being relegated to the sofa whenever Leaf visits, but tonight, it’s different. The dark seems claustrophobic - or maybe that’s just his heart, the way it feels like someone’s squeezing it in their fist. Even though there’s a wall between them, the very air of his apartment seems different with Red breathing in it. 

The clock on the wall is usually his lullaby. Now it keeps him awake, as he imagines Red’s heartbeat fitting in between the ticks.


End file.
